—“They’re an army.”
—“These men don’t know how to live outside of a battlefield. They’re known as grau geists—men with no master.”
The lights were out; it was quiet.
When I went inside, I found the owner, Pops, dead.
He was lying behind the counter on a pot and the shelf for cooking utensils. He’d been shot in the chest three times, and his eyes were still open. His hand was still gripping the curry ladle. He must’ve tried to grab on to whatever was nearby on the spur of the moment. I wondered how he’d planned on fighting against armed Mimic soldiers with only a ladle. Just what you would expect from the owner of a Mafia-affiliated restaurant.
Only when I gently closed Pops’s eyelids did he actually look dead. I could feel my soul being tightly squeezed out of my body. It was the sound the spirit makes when it is irreversibly disfigured.
A military knife was stuck in the counter, and underneath it was a map. After pulling out the knife, I looked at the map. It contained a drawing of some mountainous terrain not too far away. There was a red X on some old private property in the mountains with the words Ghost Graveyard scribbled next to it.
I was sure it was a message from Mimic—from Gide. I folded the map and tucked it away in my pocket. Then I headed up to the second floor and went into the hidden room that Pops had ready for me. An array of weapons for emergency use were stashed away in there.
I took off my clothes and put on a light bulletproof vest. Next, I slipped on a shirt, then slid my arms through the shoulder holster and buttoned it in the back.
I checked both pistols. Once I’d finished looking them over, I wiped off the dust from one gun, oiled it, and assembled everything. I made sure the sight wasn’t off. Then I took out the bullet and pulled the trigger, checking how it felt. After that, I loaded the magazine before inserting it back into the gun. I pulled the slide, sending the first bullet to the chamber. When that was done, I checked the other gun the same way before sticking them in the holsters on each side of my body.
Every precise movement I made was like a prayer. As I got myself ready, my mind separated from my body, and I wandered in my thoughts: who I used to be, what I’d sought, who I’d talked to, what I’d felt, how I’d wanted to live. All I knew in that moment was that everything I sought in the past was already gone—thrown away like a crumpled-up piece of paper.
I wrapped my wrists in bands packed with spare magazines. Then I slid my arms through the sleeves of the Kevlar-woven coat, into which I stuffed grenades and as many spare magazines as I could. I hesitated but decided to not bring any bandages or painkillers along. I wouldn’t need them.
Instead, I found a box of cigarettes from when I’d quit years ago. I headed to the adjacent room with the cigarettes and a match. It was the room the kids used to live in—the same place where we’d roughhoused together just a few days ago. It had hardly changed: the bed railing colored in with crayon, the filthy floor, the stained wallpaper. The only difference was the five shadows that should’ve been there, too.
“Good night, Kousuke,” I said as I lit a cigarette. That was the name of the oldest boy. “Good night, Katsumi. Good night, Yuu. Good night, Shinji. Good night, Sakura.”
I watched as a trail of pale smoke quietly rose from the tip.
“Sleep well. I’ll avenge you.”
Holding the cigarette between my fingers, I gazed into the smoke until the cigarette burned out and the smoke disappeared.
I began to walk.
“Odasaku!”
I was stopped by a familiar voice the moment I left the restaurant.
“Dazai? What’s wrong?”
“Odasaku, I know what you’re thinking, but don’t. Doing that isn’t going to—”
“Isn’t going to bring the kids back?” I asked.
Lost for words, Dazai fell silent. Then he said, “Judging by the scale of past skirmishes, I have a good idea of how many Mimic soldiers are left. There’s a little over twenty of them, and they’re resting up for battle as we speak. They’ve most likely set up base in the western mountain district. I’m gonna go look into it, and—”
“I already know where they are. They left me an invitation.”
I handed Dazai the map with the inscription Ghost Graveyard that I’d found earlier. He furrowed his brows when he looked at it.
“They’re gathering their troops all in one spot. I’m not sure the Mafia can defeat them even if we mobilize all our men.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Odasaku, listen. The boss had a secret meeting a few hours ago. He met with the Special Division for Unusual Powers, and Ango was the mediator. The meeting was so secret that I couldn’t get any more information, but there’s still something fishy going on with this Mimic stuff. I can feel it. So until we know what that is—”
“‘Something’?” I looked at Dazai. “There isn’t anything, Dazai. It’s all over. Everything. Whatever else happens now is meaningless—just like what I’m about to do. Am I wrong?”
“Odasaku…,” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but—don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something… Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia?”
I stared at him. We had known each other for a long time, but he’d never even attempted to talk about that.
“I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that…” Dazai paused before continuing, “…I would be able to find something—a reason to live.”
I looked at him; he looked back at me.
“I wanted to be a novelist,” I said. “I thought I wouldn’t deserve such a life if I killed someone during a mission. That’s why I never killed anyone. But that’s all in the past. There’s only one thing I want now.”
“Odasaku!”
I began to walk away. Dazai yelled out, but I didn’t turn around.
Heading west, I started my journey.
Just like always, everyone walked in whatever direction they pleased. They all had somewhere to go, someone to meet, a home to return to. That was the world we lived in. That was the world I wanted to write about in my novel. That was the world the kids were supposed to belong to, where they’d each walk the streets however they pleased.
—“They all found peace. Nobody can take that away from them.”
I recalled what Ango said that day long, long ago. Were the kids somewhere peaceful? Or had they become ghosts to wander the world of the living?
Just like Gide…and me.
As I was walking, I bumped into a small young man coming from the opposite direction.
“Whoa!”
Nothing happened to me, but the young man lost balance and fell on his rear. Everything he’d been carrying scattered across the ground.
“What d’you think you’re doing?! Watch where you’re going! With eyes that high up, you oughta be real good at that! Ugh… All the detective equipment the boss gave me…”
I helped the young man pick up his scattered belongings: recording paper, a pen, a camera, and a bag for storing forensic evidence. Maybe he was a forensic technician on a murder case.
“You a cop?” I asked for no particular reason.
“Me?” He squinted his already narrow eyes in utter disgust. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lump me in with a bunch of incompetents! You don’t know who I am? Soon I’ll be a household name throughout all of Japan, so don’t you forget! I am the world’s greatest detective, Ranpo Edo—”
“Sorry about that,” I cut him off midsentence. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in a hurry.”
“Hey! You’d be a real fool to throw away your chance to talk to this amazing detective! In fact, you won’t be able to resist once you see my skills in action! Allow me to show you s
o I can rid you of any doubts. Hmm, let’s see… The reason you’re in a hurry is…”
The cheerful, haughty young man cackled, then stared at me.
“You…”
His eyes suddenly narrowed, and the air around him instantly chilled. The depths of his almond eyes harbored an inhuman glow.
“You…” Unlike just a moment ago, the young man spoke in a whisper. “I’m telling you this for your own good. You must not go to your destination. Reconsider.”
“Why?”
“Because if you go…………you’re gonna die.”
I lit another cigarette, then turned my back to him. Heading west, I marched on once more. As I walked away, I responded to the young man behind me:
“I know.”
After heading down the forest road flourishing with oak trees, I saw a Western-style building. The first things that caught my eyes were the violet slate roof and the semicircle pediment with its religious motif. Basking in the evening sun, it idly stood out against the forest.
At the end of the narrow gravel path stood two Mimic soldiers with submachine guns. They must’ve been the guards.
“Can I ask you something?”
I casually struck up conversation as I strode toward them. The soldiers, taken by surprise, pointed their guns at me, but I’d already drawn my pistols from the holsters under my arms.
I fired two shots at once, one to the left and one to the right. The bullets buried themselves in their heads before shattering through the opposite side of their skulls. Their blood and brain matter splashed against the trees behind them, and they perished without really even knowing what happened. Their bodies hit the ground with a wet thud that echoed through the forest almost simultaneously. After putting away my pistols, I continued to walk without even looking at the bodies.
As I followed the pathway, I headed to the building’s front door. I looked up at the attic space on the third floor near the rooftop on the other side of the lighting window. There was a sentry on watch holding a sniper rifle. Since I’d avoided his range of sight as I approached, he had no idea there was an intruder right below him.
I snapped my fingers to get his attention. When he followed the sound and noticed me, his eyes opened wide in astonishment. I put a bullet in his head before he could even get a hand on his rifle, and the sniper fell backward and crashed to the floor below with a bang. The soldiers inside had surely noticed that something was wrong now. I headed toward the porch, walking at my normal pace, then stopped to take out a cigarette and lit it. The murky smoke filled my lungs.
I stared at my hands—the hands that had just killed three people. They were my hands in every respect, no different from the hands that had avoided killing all those years. My fingers harbored no lust for blood. Neither did the trigger, nor the bullets. The urge to kill dwelled deep within the reaches of my mind.
Soon a ruckus began to break out inside the building—sounds of yelling, running, and magazines being loaded. I slid to the side of the French front door and leaned against the wall next to the stone pillar. With my back against the hard stone wall, I reached out to my side and knocked on the door. Immediately, there was a rumble as if the ground had cracked open, and countless bullets shattered the door, turning it into nothing more than sawdust in the wind.
I looked out of the corner of my eye with both pistols at the ready. Five seconds. Ten seconds. After twelve seconds went by and the soldiers tried to reload their guns, I pulled the pin out of a grenade and threw it into the building. As the explosion blew out the interior, I spit the cigarette out of my mouth. Then, holding out my two pistols, I rushed inside.
Bullets soared through the smoke. I pitched myself forward onto the floor, firing twice. The flash from the guns lit the room up in white. After rolling forward, I shifted to the side and leaped toward the corner of the room while firing two more shots. Bits of plaster, spurts of blood, and smoke were illuminated by the gunfire. As submachine gun bullets hit the ground below me, I ran alongside the wall knowing where they would land. Numerous empty shells hit the floor, playing the music of war. Before long, I pulled my guns together and fired twice at the enemies in the room’s center. Then there was silence.
All the soldiers that were in my way when I broke in had been taken care of. I surveyed the room. The entrance hall to the Western-style building, having been blown apart by gunfire, was now an atrium. The stained glass near the ceiling dimly tinted the dust and gunpowder smoke inside. Six Mimic soldiers lay dead underneath.
According to what Dazai had said, there were still quite a few enemies left. The bloodbath still had a ways to go.
I began to hear the footsteps of soldiers at the opposite end of the carpeted stairs. My skill allowed me to see only up to five seconds into the future; that wasn’t enough time to figure out what kinds of traps and battle formations the enemy had set up ahead of me.
After reloading my guns, I slowly walked up the staircase. At the top was a long, narrow connecting corridor. If the enemy closed in from the other side, I could take cover while putting up a barrage. I saw soldiers at the end of the corridor, and they immediately drew their guns. I decided to charge the enemy instead.
I rushed down the corridor; it was so narrow that I had almost no space to dodge. There were four enemies charging at me while firing submachine guns, the most optimal weapon at this distance. I bent forward and sprinted toward the Mimic soldier in the very front, then fired my pistol. His forehead took the bullet, bending him backward. Next, I swiftly rushed into the pocket and used the soldier’s corpse as a shield while firing two more shots. A bullet fatally pierced the second soldier’s throat. His fingers spasmed, causing him to shoot a line of bullets into the ceiling.
I kicked the corpse’s sternum, sending it flying into the soldier directly behind him. While the third soldier tried to push the body away, I slipped to his side and struck him in the chin with my palm, then put a bullet through the top of his skull. Crimson liquid splattered against the wall. While the last soldier fired a submachine gun, I jumped to the side and dodged. Then I kicked off the wall once more to evade the line of fire horizontally pursuing me. Just as my leap took me right above the enemy, I unloaded the rest of my clip. I landed at the end of the connecting corridor. Only a brief moment had passed since the first shot. After another second had gone by, I heard the soldier collapse to the ground in the background. I only used the sound to confirm his death before once again continuing on ahead.
At the end of the connecting corridor was a spacious lounge facing the courtyard. It had a large fireplace with medieval-style decor, a red velvet armchair, and a war flag encased in a golden picture frame.
This mansion used to be the residence of foreign aristocrats. When I researched the place beforehand, I learned that the owner of this vast estate returned to his homeland after his assets had been confiscated with the spread of the war. Ever since then, the mansion’s ownership remained up in the air as it patiently waited for an occupant who was never to return.
I stopped. I knew there was a remote directional mine up ahead, and if I went any farther, I’d get caught in the blast. My only option was to shoot through the wall to destroy it. I aimed my gun. The moment I did so, I realized my failure—there was another directional mine right behind me as well. Whoever was watching this place from afar must’ve decided that they’d blow up the mine behind me the moment I noticed the one to my front.
My skill allowed me to see the future, but when things happened because I’d changed my course of action, I only started seeing the future from the moment I made the change. Therefore, if there was a trap that would be triggered one second after I aimed my gun at the mine ahead, then I would only be able to see that future one second before it was triggered. This was one of those cases.
I lunged forward, and immediately the high-performance explosive behind me detonated. Shrapnel and the expanding fireball tore through my coat. When the blast slammed me against the floor, I immediately covere
d my head and stayed low. In a flash, the directional mine ahead blasted down the door, and the impact battered my body. It was a surprise attack that used my skill against me, coupled with a pincer attack from directional mines on both sides. This enemy knew the ins and outs of my “precognition,” both the capabilities and weaknesses alike.
I had a vision.
Soldiers came in droves, rappelling through the large windows lined up on my left side. However, I was still crawling on the ground, in no position to fight back.
I had only around four seconds before they’d arrive. It was sink or swim. I took my chances and fought to pick up my pistols. I felt a dull pain in my right side; one of the pellets from the explosion had buried itself in my flesh near my hip bone, which wasn’t protected by my bulletproof vest. Blood stained my shirt. I saw ropes dangle from outside the window, followed by descending soldiers’ shoes. I picked up my guns with a groan. Each window was smashed through as eight soldiers came swinging into the building.
There was no time to take cover. As the glass shattered in the air, I felt as if I could see the sparkle of each fragment. First, I shot one bullet out of each gun, piercing the first two soldiers in the throat and head, respectively. Thereupon, the other soldiers landed inside. My coat fluttered in the air as I flipped over and lowered my posture before shooting two more bullets, finishing off the two closest soldiers. The remaining enemies aimed their guns at me. The fragments of glass finally hit the ground, creating countless bouncing gems of light.
Then the gunfight commenced—a shoot-out close enough to hold a boxing match. Gunfire filled the room, and my surroundings flashed bright white. Granular apostles of death soared through the sparkling world. I could see it. Leaning forward almost perpendicular to the ground, I avoided the close-range gunfire. Then I crossed my arms and fired two shots. I bent backward until my chest was facing the ceiling and shot two shots at the enemies on both sides. An impact to the chest sent me flying backward. A bullet hit my bulletproof vest, knocking the wind out of me as if I’d been hit with a cannonball.
Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era Page 13
